


A Solution No Less Reliable, An Answer No Less True

by drifting_chronotope



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Anal Sex, Dunmer/Khajiit, Furry, Interspecies Sex, Khajiit are Khajiit, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Non-Human Genitalia, Purring, Pushy Bottoms, Rimming, Size Difference, Smut, implied grooming kink, magic used for good, the sex is the story, unintentional begging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-25
Updated: 2017-08-25
Packaged: 2018-12-19 22:03:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11907111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drifting_chronotope/pseuds/drifting_chronotope
Summary: One night, a tipsy Breton that frequents his local tavern gifted the Dragonborn a curious book of spells. Or: The Dragonborn finally convinces his Khajiit lover that they are ready for something new and he’s got just the spell to prove it.





	A Solution No Less Reliable, An Answer No Less True

Kharjo licked his tongue along the back of Amal's ear and that was nearly the end of it. Amal whimpered a little, eyes sliding shut, head tilting, and his hand would've gone playing avenging savior for his aching cock if Kharjo hadn't already trapped both of his arms behind his back. So, instead, he cursed in coarse Dunmeri and Kharjo licked his ear again.

They were knelt on the grand bed that graced the newly-refurbished Proudspire Manor and Amal had already determined that he would need to buy new bedclothes. Kharjo's strong body surrounded the smaller mer and one furred hand was gently holding Amal's wrists to the small of his back. His other hand tickled nail-points along Amal's panting stomach while his deep, incessant purring rumbled straight down to Amal's core. Amal pressed back as much as he could, needing to be closer to that vibration, needing to feel more of the soft fur against his skin. He felt Kharjo's tongue slowly travel back up his earlobe, felt its curling edge and sandy scratch, and then Amal's whimpering became a whining high in his throat when he felt Kharjo's hot erection press into his hip.

His stomach fluttered, a little panicked, as Kharjo's prick slid back and forth. Kharjo was trim muscle and sleek form, but that was for a Khajiit. Compared to a Dunmer like Amal, Kharjo was _big_ , and likewise was his anatomy. Just feeling the thick shaft move against his skin gave Amal gooseflesh in anticipation of that stretching him open. Then there was the _other_ consideration to think about when bedding a Khajiit. Amal wanted Kharjo in him more than he wanted air at the moment, but that didn't mean he wasn't slightly nervous about it.

"Ready?" Kharjo purred into his ear, and the dual sensation of his smooth voice over the rumbling purr caused Amal to outright moan.

"Yes," Amal said, desperate, "Please, Kharjo. Fuck me. Fuck me now," because Kharjo had been teasing him forever and Amal was officially ready to beg.

Kharjo snickered, which Amal had learned was as close to a chuckle as the Khajiit got. He shuddered at the loss of hot fur against his back when Kharjo shifted to give the hand not holding his wrists room to pet possessively over Amal's smooth bottom. One furred digit traced up to the dimple at the root of his spine and then drew down, pushing between his dun cheeks and stroking slowly down along the hairless valley. Amal instantly backed into his touch, not for a second fearing the Khajiit's claws.

"We have not done this before," Kharjo said, thoughtfully tugging at the ring fluttering for his attention. "I don't want to hurt you."

"No, I'm fine," Amal said quickly, "Really," though it was more words shoved inside a frustrated groan. He _had_ thought this through, after all. He shook his head to emphasize how okay he was with the damn cat to shut up and fuck him and the effort didn't help the dizziness in his skull.

"I can take it," he began again, "You've got a sheath on. You said you've used them before."

"Yes, but this cover... It is new..."

"It's a classic spell sheath," Amal assured him, "and we have a healing scroll on hand if anything goes wrong," failing to sound quite like the professional nightblade he was, but then he was also harder than he could remember being and that was impressive by itself. He swallowed and wet his lips and said, "I'll be fine."

Kharjo hummed and plucked at his ring again and Amal arched back so quick he nearly toppled the both of them. They would have fallen had Kharjo not deftly shifted his weight and steadied them again. The feel of the Khajiit's bands of muscles rippling under his soft fur and the delicate curling of a tail was the last straw for Amal's resistance.

" _Please_ , Kharjo," Amal whined. He normally hated sounding like a nix in heat when he was in bed, but then he met Kharjo and that _changed_. He wiggled against the furry pad rubbing circles around his hole. " _Please, please_."

"You will say if it hurts?"

Amal nodded and tried to make a meaningful sound, but it really was just another whine. Kharjo snickered again, but it was deeper this time, raspy, a laugh that echoed with a growl.

"Down," he said into Amal's ear and released his arms.

He had only time to drop forward onto his elbows before he felt Kharjo's furry thighs against his own and then the smooth head of his cock bumped at his hole. Even Kharjo's tip felt big, fighting through Amal's ring even after the stretching, and Amal suffered a split-second panic that it wasn't going to fit— _oh, ancestors, it's too big_ —until he felt Kharjo flex and suddenly he was too busy sucking in air to worry about that. His cock slid in slowly, sheathed and oiled, but it was the size of it that had Amal panting before he felt Kharjo settle and felt a gentle stroke of his tail over his foot.

"Amal?" Kharjo voice was low, vibrating in his throat.

"Hmm?" Amal thanked his old teacher for the millionth time as he concentrated on relaxing his body despite every heartbeat reminding him he had a Khajiit warrior's massive prick inside him. His muscles fluttered again and he could feel the strange texture of Kharjo's spines through the magicked sheath. It was safe, he reminded himself. Lots of Dunmer got fucked by Khajiit and they used a similar method. Yes, this particular spell had come from a book written by a Sanguine cultist, but that just meant it'd been well-tested. Probably. He felt Kharjo shift a little inside and, "Mmmhm," Amal's panic halted a moment as his eyes tried to roll back into his skull.

"Fztsxql..." said Amal once his vision returned.

If Kharjo rumbled something, it didn't matter, because then he started rocking himself gently, not really thrusting, keeping his cock buried inside and somehow seeming to push deeper. " _Beautiful_ ," he thought, rubbing his face into the bedspread, and he let his knees slide apart and let Kharjo's rhythm slowly push him to the mattress.

Kharjo adjusted, mounting him, rocking stronger now. He left Amal no escape as his wide girth pushed and stretched and rubbed. He started to rut Amal in earnest, his smooth half-hiss, half-purr growing louder, pressing Amal's own cock down against the bed until Amal was seeing gold and coming in a fit of whimpers and choking breath. Kharjo kept fucking, feeling impossibly huge again, keeping Amal on edge, dragging him right back up the mountainside and into the Aether above.

Amal felt Kharjo's rough tongue swipe over his nape in broad, long licks, his body curling over him, furry hips like silken fire against his skin, rutting, unceasing, until he felt Kharjo drive deep inside and then _release_. Amal let out a weak cry. The surprise of it, the suddenness, the pulsing momentum of Kharjo's body still rocking, Amal felt himself come again, panic and pleasure coursing through him so swift it verged on painful. He reveled in the feeling of Kharjo's cock flexing, of Kharjo filling him. It felt like it would never end; spurt after spurt and still Kharjo felt hard and swollen and Amal wanted _more_. He realized he'd never be able to fuck anyone else without comparing it to the visceral joy of Kharjo's perfect cock pumping him full.

He must've passed out from it. Raspy purring drew Amal from his dreams of heat and pressure, as did the winded, rumbling voice of Kharjo in his ear, whispering, "He is happy?"

"Oh, yes," Amal sighed, breath fluttering a little as he realized Kharjo was still inside him. _He's ruined_ me, he thought. He felt heavy and his belly felt puffy and warm. He attempted to reach around to stroke Kharjo's head but made do with a useless arm flop, hoping the effort would convey his sincerity.

Kharjo snickered softly and then shifted, carefully pulling out, cum leaking out in his wake. Amal felt again the strange texture of his covered cock sliding out, his spine tingling and his hole fluttering, more of Kharjo's release spilling down his thighs. His muscles squeezed on reflex and he shivered at the stinging pleasure it sent through him. But there was no pain. The spell had worked as advertised, and then some. Granted, Amal knew he was still high on sex, but apart from the promise of a little soreness, they were both unharmed and the spell would expire shortly on its own. Amal enjoyed a glow of self-praise _._

He felt Kharjo pull his bottom up the slightest bit and then Amal yelped when he felt a rough tongue start to lick him clean.

" _That's--_ " he choked out, but there was no stopping Kharjo when he put his mind to a task. Amal gasped. His loose hole offered no resistance to the wicked tongue. He clenched his eyes closed and forced air in through his nose, feeling Kharjo's tongue move deeper, whiskers and fur tickling his burning skin. Slowly, steadily, he felt himself plumping up again, his hips asking no permission to begin humping vainly at the air to quell his building need. Kharjo flicked at his trembling muscles, curled his tongue over soft wrinkles, and Amal let out a feeble moan. All it took was another jab of Kharjo's tongue and Amal's body juddered weakly as he rode another breathless climax.

He stayed conscious that time, though it took a moment longer before his lungs worked properly. Furry hands gently urged him to roll onto his back. Amal reminded his body that breathing was a thing it usually did on its own. There was no part of him that didn't feel slippery with oil or sweat or tacky with come. He could feel his heartbeat in his toenails. It was a feeling he could get used to.

His body jolted when a rough tongue licked over a nipple and then Kharjo's shimmering eyes blinked into his vision. "He is happy?" Kharjo asked again, and this time he definitely sounded smug. Amal couldn't fault him on that, though, and he concentrated on nodding, "Mmm."

"Amal is still dirty," Kharjo said, his lips curling in his sly way, and for a moment Amal really thought that death by a Khajiit's tongue was going to be his ticket out of this fated kalpa. But Kharjo shifted away and Amal heard the soft splishing of water and he audible sighed when a cool cloth gently brushed over his burning skin.

Kharjo's gentleness was its own exquisite pleasure. The warm silky fur and the tingle of his nails contrasted with the solid coolness of the wet cloth. Amal shamelessly relaxed under his strong hands, letting him shift him as he pleased as he worked down his body. Kharjo's fondness of washing his lovers had seemed strange to him when they'd first begun to be more than working partners. It had surprised him to learn that Kharjo savored baths and hot springs, and, of course, Amal had insisted they visit the Eldergleam over in Eastmarch. He smiled in happy memory.

"Is it always like that?" Amal heard himself asking, murmuring the question out around sounds of encouragement as Kharjo gently urged him to bend his knee up.

"Always like?"

"When you came and you, ah"--Amal felt his pulse jump--"when you stayed inside me for so long," he said almost as a sigh itself.

Kharjo's purring changed to a soft click as he thought about the question. He settled Amal's leg back onto the bed. "Khajiit felt very good, yes?"

"Oh." Amal liked that. However, when Kharjo finished rinsing his cloth again, the captious academic in him somehow reclaimed enough control to point out, "But that doesn't actually answer my question."

Kharjo's purring returned to its steady, throaty rumble. "Ah." He smiled. "I think it does."

When Amal was clean to satisfaction, Kharjo wrapped around his trembling body, his deep purr quieter but still unceasing, and Amal calmed his churning thoughts and let himself drift asleep as the tip of Kharjo's soft tail delicately traced along his calf.


End file.
